Reality

Bright light blinded his eyes. He could not understand why, for this time of the night, or was Jim dreaming? He reached out for his watch from the top of the bedstead: it was truly and really seven O'clock in the morning. He covered his head with the bed-spread as if to shield himself from the outside world.He knew that he couldn't have slept for more than three hours.
Events of last night came flooding in his mind:


'Can't be true', he groaned.'My car couldn't have damaged Zach's vintage 1930 Chevrolet, it must be a bad dream.'


He cleared his throat and tried to wish away the tormenting thought. Jim, whose full name is James Crow, lives on 101 Blue Orion Avenue, with his wife Mel Crow. This Saturday morning, Mel is uncharacteristically up early.Goes to show that this is indeed true, rued Jim. Zachary Snubs is the Landlord of several houses on Blue Orion, but fatefully, as Jim often says, lives next door in 102 Blue Orion.

He owns a navy blue 1930 Chevrolet that he rarely drives, but which he spends a good time in the morning cleaning and polishing. Every Friday night, popularly known in Cringle Town as pay Friday, Jim would come home tipsy and rail about people who've nothing better to do than spend time polishing old cars with no engines; how come it never drives anyway? Zach would say nothing. People have rights to speak their minds, especially if they were talking within their four walls, he reasoned to himself.

Every Saturday morning, to the dismay of tenants, he would cheerily knock at every door to find out if there was anything amiss, but in reality to collect his dues. A day's delay often solicited myriad reasons for not being able to pay:

'The wife needed a new pair of curtains. Will pay double next week Mr Snubs',Jim was wont to say.

If Zach agreed to his plea, his merry-making would surprisingly continue into the week, and his rantings about Zach's ritual with his car would be a nightly affair. This not only set him on a collision course with his Landlord, but acutely embarrassed the friendly, but mild charactered Mel who was in good terms with Mrs Kim Snubs.

It is this demon drink, Jim silently consoled himself. I never utter any unkind word to Zach before I drink the pale liquid. Must be my mother's curse before she died.Said I'd never amount to anything, and that I would be the laughing stock in my town.What can one do about his fate? A familiar shrill voice from outside brings him to the present.

'He's not a bad man really, it is the demon drink', Mel's voice floated into the room from outside.

'Ha, he doesn't drink till pay Friday, does he?', clucked Kim.'Shows that he can stay away from it if he tried hard.'

'Tut tut, says he cant sleep soundly on Friday night without a drink he has nightmares of his mother taunting him.' Mel offered.

'Mel, if I were you, I would ask the Cringle Dry Cleaners to pay me instead of Jim.'suggested Kim.

'No, I wouldn't anyway.Would go mad trying to work out how to pay the bills from his meager wages.' wailed Mel.

There was a sudden eerie silence followed by a familiar rap on the living room door. He then heard Zach's usual query:

'Hallow, anybody there?'

The reality of facing his seemingly taciturn landlord, and the mounting bills that needed his attention downstairs made Jim feel sick. His head spun, and his stomach churned.He knew that the situation he was in required a calm disposition that he neither felt nor had.

He knelt down beside his bed and prayed.